


Haus of Horrors

by SA Bouraleh (SharmakeBouraleh)



Category: Haus of Horrors, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fantasy, Multi, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharmakeBouraleh/pseuds/SA%20Bouraleh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Real life) AU where the main character works in a little shop of horrors that specializes in Halloween costumes and all things spooky, and employees have to work in costumes, so there’s your banshee, witch, zombie, ghost, vampire, werewolf, fairy, et cetera. </p><p>Except the only thing that the main character doesn’t know is that the people they’re working with aren’t in costumes. They’re actual supernatural creatures. And they’re the token human.</p><p>Shenanigans ensue, when the workplace meets clients (who are hunters), workplace drama between creatures, and the human just wants to get a pay cheque.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haus of Horrors

Madam Au-Delá glanced at the resume, severe eyebrows arched in thought. She glanced at the boy seated across from the desk before her, pale blue eyes analyzing him and making him feel as though she were seeing through him.

 

Damien felt that familiar fluttering of butterflies in his stomach, nervousness creeping through him as doubt flourished into full-blown dread. Madam Au-Delá kept her gaze over her sharp-rimmed glasses perched precariously low on her slender nose, analyzing him with an intense force.

 

At last, she threw him a bone by breaking the silence, asking, “What possessed you to apply at this establishment?”

 

Damien swallowed his nerves, an audible sound. In truth, he had applied as a joke at the insistence of his friend Niobe, because nothing else was panning out and he figured it was worth a hoot. Not like he had a lot of options anyways. He had been surprised to actually hear back.

 

Telling the truth about how he hadn’t been serious in his interest here? That wouldn’t do. Not now that he potentially had it. Instead, he managed, “I have a persistent and varied interest in the supernatural, from the occult to conspiracy theories. This position poses an opportunity to work at a job I’ll love and have fun at.” When she arched an eyebrow imperiously, Damien stuttered, “N-Not _too_ much f-fun…I mean, I’ll work very h-hard and always do m-m-my best…customer’s always right, and all th—”

 

She cut across him. “The customer is almost always an idiot and rarely if ever right. I operate this business because I cater a specific service for a niche of clientele: true believers.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle with something he couldn’t quite identify. “Presuming you get the job, if a client makes you feel uncomfortable, attempts to invalidate you, or belittle you, not only do you have the right to refuse them service, but I insist that you do so. I don’t do deal nor shake on them with those whom have sullied their hands, and I would not ask that my employees do that which I won’t.” She paused, sizing him up again. “Are you a true believer, Mr. Malicke?”

 

Mulling over his answer, and hoping it was right, he met her eye as he said, “I truly believe it’s a possibility.”

 

Madam Au-Delá placed the resume flat on her desk, instead intertwining her fingers as she peered over her hands at him. “You start Friday.”

 

Damien gave a grateful sigh, tension ebbing from him in gentle flows. “Merci, Madam Au-Delá. You won’t regret it. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

 

“You will work Friday and weekends. Come after nightfall. I will make sure the store is wheelchair-accessible and friendly by then. Any questions?”

 

Damien furrowed his brow, confused at her comments. “But tomorrow’s Friday. I was just at the shop today. How will you make it wheelchair-friendly on such short notice?”

 

Madam Au-Delá gave a rare smile, red lips parting kindly. There was a warmth in her eyes that Damien suspected was rarely there. “I have my ways. It would not do to have your workspace unaccommodated to your needs and actually hinder you. It will be done by the time you start work on Friday. Trust in no more than that.”

 

The black boy nodded, his voluminous afro shaking with the movement. He gave his own small smile. “Okay. I will just have to be a true believer.”

 

Madam Au-Delá’s smile grew the tiniest bit wider. “What size are you? You’ll have to wear a uniform, of course. I believe we have an opening for a Reaper. We have a few of them, but one of them hasn’t come into work for quite some time, so perhaps it’s high time he’s been replaced. Show up on Friday at nightfall and you will receive your costume.”

 

Damien couldn’t hide the ecstatic grin from creeping onto his face. “Thank you so much, Madam Au-Delá. I’ll be there as soon as soon as it’s dark outside. I can’t wait for this experience.”

 

The French woman nodded, dismissing him with a wave. She rose, long legs striding towards him as she held out a hand. “Welcome to the team.”

 

Damien took it, and felt an odd tingle – a shock? – as his hand clasped hers. It felt like a surge of energy, and the black boy shook his head, dismissing it as nothing more than static electricity. “Happy to be part of it,” he replied, before wheeling his chair around and heading for the exit, a joyful song in his heart and a smile playing about his lips.

 

Niobe was _not_ going to believe this!


End file.
